Diverging Timelines: Cutaway 1 - A Camelot Peasant in Cardiff
by Space-Time-Leapers
Summary: What would a peasant from Camelot think of modern day Cardiff? The Doctor finds out when he takes Galadriel there for a fuel stop. Part of the Diverging Timelines universe.


**A Camelot Peasant in Cardiff**

When the Doctor had found himself landing in 6th century England, he hadn't expected to meet King Arthur - to be honest, he hadn't expected to be in 6th century England but that was irrelevant concerning the events that had happened after he had landed. He also hadn't expected to meet the most extraordinary young girl of sixteen years by the name of Galadriel. He'd invited her to be his "plus one" at the banquet the King had invited him to. The girl had worn herself out participating in the gaiety of the evening, prompting the Time Lord to not only offer her a room aboard the TARDIS but also a nightgown to wear, since she had none herself. Unfortunately, she believed the piece of clothing to be a dress and had worn it over her chemise. He hadn't bothered to correct her assessment. Given that the TARDIS was in need of refueling, he decided that a trip to the Rift was in order. Having woken his companion, he set coordinates for the Rift and landed with a broad grin on his fueling station.

"Ah! Here we are! Cardiff! You're going to love it!" he informed his newest companion, whom he had started calling Glad for short. Grabbing her hand, he led her to the door. He stopped as he was about to open it and looked at her for a moment. "Oh. You're still in your nightgown," he realized.

She looked down at it. "My sleeping dress? Yes. Why are we stopping? I thought you were going to let me see this Cardiff."

"Oh, I am. But going outside in your nightgown is a bit like going outside in your chemise. I think before we see the city, you need to put on something a bit more appropriate."

Glad shrugged, starting towards the inner door. "I'll just go back to my room and get something."

"Something simple is fine," he informed her. "More... cosmopolitan."

"Cosmo... what?" she asked turning. "All I have is simple. Well, unless you count the one dress with the ribbons."

He thought for a moment, considering what kind of wardrobe Glad had and how it would be accepted in 21st century Cardiff. "You know what? I'll help you pick out a dress from the wardrobe."

"I've been dressing myself since I was a child, Doctor," Glad complained. She stood with her hand on her hip jutted out.

"I'm not suggesting that I put the dress on you, only that I help you find the appropriate wardrobe for this time period," the Time Lord told her emphatically.

"Have people changed what they wear? I mean, men wear britches and women wear dresses, right?"

"Yeah. Sometimes," the Doctor hedged. "But it's not really the clothing per se as the style."

"Oh... that's just for ladies of the court. They're always having a dress made for them every year or so. Sometimes two."

"Only two," he murmured to himself. "Rose would've never survived in medieval England."

Glad noticed his focus had gone off the subject. "Doctor!"

He straightened and quickly turned to her. "What?"

"You suddenly seemed to be somewhere else. In your mind anyways." She paused. "It doesn't matter what I wear. I'm not a fancy lady."

"Umm... actually... it does," he told her gently. "You go out in your normal clothing and people will think you're a peasant."

"But that's my point! I _am_ a peasant."

"But there are no peasants in this time period. Feudalism went the way of the dodo."

"What's a dodo and... what's feud... feud... oh, that other thing you said."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed as if she had just proven his point.

A confused look settled on Glad's face. "I have no idea what you're talking about. All I want to do is go and see Cardiff. If you want me to be fancy, that's fine. I'll put on that heavy dress I wore to dinner. It was pretty but it _was _uncomfortable."

"That's not what I mean. You wear that, everyone will think you're going to a Renaissance festival or a masquerade party and then only if one of them is on." He walked to the door to escort her through the TARDIS, intent on taking her to the wardrobe while continuing his prattle. "If one isn't on then they'll think you're... well... strange and possibly a loon."

"A loon? Are you saying they'd think I'm possessed?"

"Well, not possessed. Your nightgown would work for that. And pea soup. But that's irrelevant. They'd just think that you're not in your right mind." He opened a door and guided Glad into their destination. "Now, let's see... 21st century Earth... 2006, to be precise. Oh! That reminds me! It's Christmas time out there! Love Christmas! So, since the weather in Cardiff in December is a bit chilly, we should probably have you wear something warm." He went through the clothes, pushing them one way and the other. "Ah! Perfect! _Molte bene_!" He pulled the outfit from the rack, a knee-length green cotton dress with black leotards, and handed it over to her.

"But, Doctor! This dress is too short. They'll see my legs!"

"You sound like Victoria," he said, remembering his former companion who had come from the Edwardian era. "Everyone sees women's legs in this time. Could be a lot shorter, in fact. Could be a miniskirt." He gestured to the garment. "Besides, the leotards will cover your legs. So, go on. At least give it a try."

"This is mini enough," she groused. "And what am I supposed to do with these!" she asked, holding up the leotards.

"Pull them on over your legs," he instructed. "Like... skin tight britches."

"Skin tight britches? Have you gone loony? I wear skin tight britches and go out in public... well... this doesn't sound like a good idea to me, Doctor." Figuring by his look that he wasn't going to give in, she sighed. "Fine. But when the priests give me penance, I think you should have to help me with whatever I have to do!" She started into the small dressing room with annoyance.

The Doctor leaned against a coral strut, waiting for the teenager to put on the outfit he had picked out for her. He'd already decided on a coat to go with the dress in case the weather was colder than anticipated. All that was left was to choose footwear but he wanted to see how the dress looked before deciding on that. After all, shoes made the outfit; he was proof of that. A good five minutes went by and she still hadn't come out. The Time Lord was starting to become worried about her so he went over to the dressing room and knocked on the door. "Glad? You okay in there?" he queried cautiously.

"I can't believe you want me to wear this." Mortification could be heard in her voice.

"Come now. It's a beautiful outfit. You'll be a hit in Cardiff," he replied, hoping that he was reassuring her.

"But..." She paused. "You can see everything! It's like I'm naked!"

"Well, if we were back in Victorian England, you'd be right. But 21st century Cardiff? You're practically overdressed."

Suddenly the door flew open. "You call this overdressed?"

The Doctor regarded her for a moment. The long sleeved green dress had an empire waistline that led to an A-line skirt that stopped just above her knees. Above the waist, the bodice and sleeves were ribbed vertically to provide appropriate warmth to those areas of the body. A cowl neckline finished the dress itself. The black leotards underneath accentuated Glad's figure just right and the pendant she wore finished the look of a modern teenager with a fantastic sense of style. "I think it looks absolutely terrific on you. Just need to give you a pair of boots to accessorize the look and you'll be all set to go," the Time Lord told her honestly before going in search of the footwear. "What size are you? Five? Six?"

"What? Boots come in numbers? I can only wear two."

"Not the number of boots you can wear at one time," he corrected her. "The length and width of your foot to allow your boots to fit you properly." He looked at her feet for a moment. "I'm going with a size six calf-length boot. Green? No, black. Definitely black. Green you'd look like a prostitute... or an elf, which for Christmas wouldn't be too bad, I suppose. But then they'd just ask where Father Christmas was and I'm not putting on that damn robe again." He went back to his search. "Well, maybe with green bows. That would be cute. And you wouldn't look like an elfen prostitute."

"What's a prostitute?"

He stopped abruptly at her question, sniffing slightly. Of all the queries she brought up, she would have to ask that one. "Umm... a prostitute, Glad... well... a prostitute is... well... a woman who... who... oh, how do I put this delicately? A prostitute breaks the seventh Commandment in order to obtain financial reward."

Glad went through the commandments in her mind, counting each one on her fingers. When, based on those fingers she got to seven, her eyes widened and she turned bright red. "Doctor! I would never... I mean... how could you think..." She crossed herself. "That's it. I'm not wearing this!"

"What? What did I say? You asked me what a prostitute was and I told you!"

"Yes, but you said I could look like one!"

"That doesn't mean that you _will _look like one!"

"If there's even a chance of..." she started.

"You aren't going to look like a prostitute, Galadriel. What kind of person do you think I would be to allow a teenage girl to dress like that? I wouldn't dream of giving you clothes that would make you look like a prostitute. I was just saying that if I gave you green boots, someone might mistaken you for such but, with black boots, you'd be seen as an average teenage girl."

"And all that changes is the color of the boots?" Glad looked confused. "I don't see how what you wear on your feet would have any effect on whether you were seen as... um... one of those."

"And let's just keep it that way for a while, shall we?" the Gallifreyan replied as he handed her a pair of calf-length boots. "Try those on."

She looked at them and then pulled them on. They had a small heel in the back but nothing she couldn't walk in. "I still think this is too revealing, Doctor."

"Believe me, it isn't," he assured her before taking her hand, grabbing the coat he'd picked out for her with the other. Then guiding her back to the console room, he opened the main door to peer out. A smile graced his face as he hung up the coat on the rack and took her hand once more. "It's not too cold out, I think. Come on. You'll love it!"

Glad walked out into a completely different world than where she'd been. No castles, no thatched roof houses, no paths of dirt. This was like walking into a fairy world with crystal buildings, shining multicolored gems that glowed in the dark and some kind of platform of cut rock. "It's beautiful!" she breathed.

"The Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff," the Doctor introduced. "And today... is Christmas Day!" He pointed to the multicolored gems. "Those are Christmas lights, put up for the occasion." He pointed at the other end. "And there by the Millennium Centre is the annual Christmas tree."

"It's so... bright and cheery! All those colors! How do they make those dots glow like that?"

"Electricity," came the simple answer. Seeing the confusion on her face, he explained, "Humans by this time have figured out that lightning is a form of power and that power is electricity. It's not a magical power, mind you. Just like your people use fire to cook food, heat homes and provide light, these people use electricity to do the same."

"How do they get the lightning to go into those little dots? I once saw a tree hit by lightning. It burst into flames."

"Well... it's not exactly lightning that they use. It's sort of... well... controlled lightning. They make it behave and go through little strings of metal. Quite an accomplishment, don't you think?"

Glad's eyes lit up. "Well, that sounds pretty magical to me. I don't know how anyone can control lightning unless they were Merlin!"

"I can understand how it would seem like magic to you," the Doctor said gently. "But, it isn't. Eventually with a little education, this will be simplistic to you, I'm sure." The TARDIS hummed behind him. "And I'd love to show you more but I'm already behind schedule by two days and the TARDIS is ready to go." Even as he spoke, a girl walked by them wearing a studded collar, a gothic fishnet and leather top, a leather miniskirt, fishnet stockings, and ankle boots. She had a ring through her nose, eyebrow, and lip and her hair was dyed purple.

Glad gaped at the other female. As she walked away, she asked her new friend, "Is she a prostitute?"

The girl turned around. "Oi! Fuck off, bitch!" She then turned and continued on.

"Aaaanyway..." the Gallifreyan said, his face flushing slightly at the words the girl used on his companion. "Time to go." He turned Glad physically towards the time ship, pulling out his key to unlock the door.

"How strange. I don't think I've ever been called a dog before. And the other words? I have no idea what she meant."

The Doctor opened the door and gently pushed it open. "Believe me, Glad. You don't want to know what she meant. It wasn't complimentary." Even as he helped the girl back into the ship, he paused, a frown on his face. He could have sworn that he'd just heard his name. Turning to look around - and seeing nothing - he mentally shrugged and went into the TARDIS, closing the door behind him and Glad.


End file.
